


Crazy Little Thing Called Love

by bluetoast



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Adorable, Alderaan, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Awesome Leia Organa, Ben Solo is a Mess, Blind Date, Cars, Eurovision, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Historical References, M/M, Minor Poe Dameron/Finn, Prince Ben Solo, Princess Leia Organa - Freeform, Rey Needs A Hug, Romantic Fluff, You Need A Teacher, body guard rose tico, princess lessons, somewhere on the coast of italy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-17 03:24:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20614169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: The story of a prince, a mechanic, and two men denying the princess lessons they won at an auction aren't meant to be a joke. Of course, the lessons were supposed to come from Princess Leia Organa, ruler of the principality of Alderaan, that's what Rey expected. She doesn't know the teacher is now Prince Benjamin Organa Solo.  The extremely handsome and extremely single heir to the throne.Prince Ben doesn't know why his mother is so surprised he's not married. He knows what it means to give up dreams and plans for the good of his country. It sort of puts a damper on your love life when you're not willing to destroy someone else's dreams of the future when they, unlike him, have a choice.





	1. Chapter 1

To the outside observer, one might think the couple jogging down one of the biggest hills in Alderaan a couple -if you ignored the five other men trailing them. A tall, thickly muscled guy in running gear and a petite woman who barely came to his elbow, keeping perfect pace with her companion. Below them, the city spread out, with the red tile roofs and houses a mixture of various shades of granite, and beyond – the Mediterranean, the water a glorious shade of blue.

“We should have started earlier.” the woman said, shaking her head, “it's nearly seven.”

Ben Organa Solo chuckled as they reached a turn, “don't worry, we'll have plenty of time to get cleaned up. It's not like breakfast time changes, Rose.” he gave her a sideways look. “You don't have to come with me on this run every time.”

Rose scoffed, “there's a reason why there's a gym in the palace, your grace, and don't say it's for when it rains.”

“I don't think anyone is going to ruin your Peloton score any time soon,” he countered, “besides, this road has a better view, and no one comes along and tries to discuss politics or some other such nonsense with you.”

“It's your job.” she replied as they reached another turn. “you're supposed to be able to do it in your sleep. Although I dread to think what the country would go to if you did.”

“So dramatic this morning.” He replied, “if you want to choose a new path for us to run tomorrow, you're more than welcome to. Or do you want to skip the running and see how many times you can throw me over your shoulder?”

“Ha!” she answered, “we still have time to do that this afternoon. You can polish my Olympic medals after, too.”

“How many is it again?” he grinned, “six bronze and one silver?” Teasing his bodyguard was one of Ben's favorite things to do; along with watching her laying out prospective palace guards who judged her by her size.

“Seven gold, one silver.” she seethed. “I'd have eight if I didn't have that stupid deduction from the Russian judge.” They came to the flat and the five men behind them spread out in a phalanx, and they slowed their pace so two could run in front. “and no, I do not want to make a run for the Tokyo Games in Twenty Twenty.”

“I wasn't going to suggest it.” he wiped at his face, he'd worked up more of a sweat than he expected. “I'm supposed to meet a minister from Monaco this afternoon. Someone has the idea the two countries should team up for Eurovision next year.”

“How would we work out the whole hosting thing when we won?” Rose let out a deep breath as they went through the palace gates and the run became a walk. “That's a lot of people into two small areas. Think of the fire codes.”

“I suspect one would host the guests and the other would hold the venue.” He snickered, “though given some of the powerhouses in the contest, I'd say we'd have to turn out something borderline unbelievable to actually win.”

“You say that and watch, Vatican City will turn up for the first time with the greatest Gregorian Chant performance in history, and proceed to give all their points to a country which has never won, and let them take the crown.” she grinned, “my money is on Romania.”

“Poland.” Ben countered, “what's our time?”

Rose checked her watch. “Forty-seven minutes, sixteen seconds. We're off pace today.”

“We'll get back down to five miles in forty-five by Friday.” he came to a stop, stretching. “Time to get cleaned up and ready to face the day.”

“You best use soap and razor this morning, or your mother will give you grief about your stubble.” she rolled her shoulders. “You know she's expecting you in the dining room at eight-thirty.”

“I know, Miss Tico.” He answered as they walked into the side entrance of the palace, taking the offered bottles of water as they passed the guard standing at the door. “For the same lecture I get every other morning.” he sighed, “and yes, I know I'm not getting any younger.” They continued down the corridor until they came to a set of stairs. “and the only reason why she doesn't suggest the two of us get together is because you love your job.”

Rose downed half of her bottle of water. “I've watched your backside almost every day since you came back from college. Really, your mother should thank me for chasing off the flaky girls who are only interested in two things, neither of which is befitting of the job she was seeking.”

Ben turned into the stairwell, “Exactly. Though my mother has no one to blame but herself. You can't raise someone telling them you shouldn't expect someone to give up their job for someone, or in my case, a country, and then act all surprised I've not had a serious relationship with any possibility of finding someone to become the next princess of Alderaan.”

“This is why the gossip rags call you Prince Ben the Prude.” she snorted, “your mother is going to take a page out of Monaco's book and find someone to play the part of a princess if you're not careful.”

“Considering how much my mother admired and respected Princess Grace, that's a compliment.” he started up the stairs, shaking his head. So he was still a bachelor heading into his mid-thirties. He knew Rose had a point. Not a week went by without his mother reminding him he had a duty to his country.

The idea of marrying someone with the sole intent of having an heir still made him want to throw up. Strange how he'd known about such things since he was fifteen, maybe younger, and it always dug under his skin; and completely altered the way he looked at the opposite sex. It was the Twenty-first century, and the rules hadn't changed. Someone might argue the law could be changed, and he could simply adopt a baby – that almost felt worse.

He reached the next landing and pushed open the door, heading for his suite. “What I need is a princess who has no desire to be a princess.” he snickered, “but can act like one so flawlessly, you'd never know.”

*

If you asked her honest opinion, Rey Niima would tell you that painting a classic Ferrari Pinkest Pink was borderline sacrilege. But when the owner of said car was also an actor famous for donating massive amounts of money to worthwhile charities and regularly visited pediatric oncology units across the globe – and says he'll pay you double, you don't say no, you ask how soon he needs it. Her boss, Poe Dameron, gave her the task of restoring and repainting the car almost six weeks ago, and the only thing which kept it from getting done in four were delays in the mail.

Her coveralls now bore several paint smears of Pinkest Pink, a sharp contrast to the various shades of black and red already staining it. She'd lived in the tiny principality of Alderaan for almost two years, coming here after Poe found her in England, working too hard for too little pay. He'd even done a ton of the paperwork for her to get into the nation, and she still didn't know what she did to deserve the grand job.

Poe Dameron was a retired Formula One racer, and now, he owned a restoration and detailing shop catering to the people in Europe who, as she put it, had more money than common sense. 

“Good morning, Sunshine.” The man called brightly as Rey finished tugging on her coveralls. “You didn't expect to see me so early, did you?”

She gave the man a wry smile, “well, not usually on days you don't open, considering I know you had plans all weekend.”

“And yet I managed to recover from all the chaos and here I am, ready to tear into another week's worth of restoration.” He gave her a once over. “You're not still painting the Ferrari, are you?”

“No.” she covered a yawn as she checked her locker, trying to remember what all she needed, “just going to give it a nice coat of wax, Mr. Alberts is picking the car up this afternoon. I wanted to get it all nice and shiny.” she gave Poe an extremely fake grin, “thank god he was talked out of getting black leather interior.”

“Well, he'll never sell enough Mary Kay to win the pink Cadillac.” he snickered, “the auction was fun, thank you for asking.”

She gave him a look, the auction for Poe's son's school, Saint Francis Academy, was something she barely cared about. The price for a single ticket just to get into the thing bordered around a hundred euros, and she definitely didn't have that kind of money lying around. “Someone fork over a stupid amount for your signed racing outfit this year?”

“It went for seven hundred, thank you.” he took a breath, “and Finn and I got you something.”

“What?” She nearly laughed, “I don't think there's anything sold at one of those events I need or want, Poe.”

“Hush.” he held out a thick white envelope. “all the details are inside, you just need to make a phone call to set up the first meeting.”

“First what?” she took the paper, and stared at the fancy calligraphy on the front, her face slowly draining of color. “Princess Lessons?” she looked up to see her boss had the most shit-eating grin on his face. She could punch the man if she wasn't worried she'd lose her job. “Seriously?”

He leaned back against the bank of lockers, folding his arms. “Look, this isn't meant as a mean spirited joke or anything...” he looked away, “it's just...”

“I'm not the princess type. I never was.” she resisted the urge to crumple the envelope up and throw it at him. The handwriting on the front was beautiful – she'd love to have that kind of skill with a pen. “What kind of person donates....” she set the envelope into her locker, “this better be something done with a protocol advisor to the royal family and not the royal family itself.” She closed her eyes, counting to ten. “And thank you, thank Finn for me.”

“It can't be all that bad, Sunshine. It's not like they'll have to keep telling you to sit up straight.” he chuckled, “the only person who sits up straighter than you is Finn.”

She rolled her eyes. “We're British, Poe.” She picked up her work gloves and stuffed them into her pockets. “I have a Ferrari to wax. And no, you can't change the play-list. You know the rules, first person in gets to choose.”

“I know, Rey.” he answered, “I've got paperwork to take care of.” He chuckled, “don't work too hard.”

She turned, “we all work too hard, Poe.”

Alderaan was only larger than Monaco by five square miles, tucked up against the borders of France and Italy. Both thrived as tax havens to the wealthy of the world, and, on paper, one might have trouble distinguishing between the two. Except the elite went to Monaco to gamble, they came to Alderaan to escape the paparazzi. Some howled that this was suppression of freedom of the press, but given the country had freedom of the press, it made little sense.   
So you had to get a press permit from the Alderaanian Government if you weren't specifically a member of the press in Alderaan. In her mind, it wasn't much different than having to get a tourist visa.

Really, did the world need to see pictures of Lady Gaga relaxing on a sunny beach, minding her own business, having a good time – when there was _real _news to report?

Rey only knew Lady Gaga was in country because she'd seen the woman – or at least, someone who looked a hell of a lot like her – out on the beach when she herself went on Saturday, and the woman asked her where the best place for Italian food was.

She retrieved a bottle of turtle wax and a clean cloth from the supply shelf and crossed the work space, heading for the Ferrari as ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love' started to blare out of the speakers.

She knew why Poe and Finn had done this. She owned no dresses, never wore make-up, and as far as they knew, she never did anything remotely_ girly_. And for the most part – they were right. While she did enjoy the occasional pedicure, her idea of girly behavior involved putting on pajamas and watching movies while eating junk food. She never had the time for overly feminine behaviors, and working in a male dominated field, she couldn't afford to let her guard down. 

Maybe she could get out of the thing completely. This didn't sound like a big deal at all, she'd just meet with whomever ran the lessons, explain that she didn't need them, and suggest to the host an extra long break from the rest of their job. Go do – other things, like watching a movie.

What sort of person donated Princess Lessons anyway?

*

Ben knew he was in for a rough morning when he came into the dining room to see his mother reading a dossier. She tried to avoid business at breakfast unless it was absolutely necessary. He squared his shoulders as he came to her chair. “Good morning, mother.” He kissed her cheek before going to his chair to retrieve his plate. “How are you?”

“Perfectly well, Benjamin. Did you and Rose have a nice run?” she didn't look up from the sheet of paper.

“Yes, afraid the cool of the morning is lying, and we're in for another hot day.” he served himself some fried eggs and bacon, along with a bowl of fruit. “Not that this significant news in Alderaan in April.”

“Point.” she took a drink from her teacup as he returned to the table. “You remember that you have a meeting with Mr. Hux this afternoon.” she shook her head, “I don't think much will come of this Eurovision venture. Neither our country or Monaco make it past the first round. We're not interesting enough.”

He shook his napkin out and placed it on his lap. “I always thought it was the fact we're of a different caliber of people. We're the Europe people want to believe is the entire continent. Quaint, old-worldly and picturesque, which, I can sort of see. Although Monte Carlo won't say it out loud, they're exactly like Las Vegas, but with dignity. All they need is a Cirque du Soleil venue.”

“And what does that make Alderaan, Ben, if Monte is Vegas?” She still hadn't looked up from the dossier.

“Sydney with better weather.” he answered, taking a slice of toast from the rack on the table. “but they have a nicer opera house.” He hated these kinds of mornings, it made him feel like he was thirteen instead of thirty-three, and his mother still had total control over his life. “Please tell me you haven't taken it into your head for us to get a reality show for me to find a wife.”

“Benjamin Organa Solo, you know me better than that.” she put the paper down, “I have more important things to do than concern myself with your unmarried status.” she let out a deep breath, “the auction at Saint Francis went well on Saturday.” she indicated the sheet.

He sliced an egg in half, “you worried you're going to get flack for the donated Princess Lessons again? It's not like it's the only thing we donate.”

“I know, Benjamin, I know.” she sighed, “I suspect I'll have a call from my secretary before the end of the day tomorrow.” she took a breath, “would you mind terribly taking care of the initial meeting? Your uncle is flying in from the States, and well...”

“Yes, mom.” he shrugged, “who knows, maybe the winning bidder has a single sister, or something.” He glanced up to see her expression change, “mother...”

“I worry about you Benjamin. Though I suppose I have little call for complaint.” she picked up her fork, spearing a piece of melon. “At least I never have to tell you to behave. I content myself with knowing every other princess or queen has told their own offspring more times than they can count 'why can't you act more like Benjamin Organa Solo?'”

He bit back the smirk, “the last royal mother with your caliber of terrifying was Queen Victoria.” He smeared his toast slice into the yolk spreading across his plate. “Good morning again, Rose.”

“Good morning, your majesty.” the woman was now all business, the crisp charcoal gray suit a perfect facade for the deadliness underneath. “good morning again, your grace.” she picked up the plate opposite of Ben. Most people would balk at the idea of one's body guard joining them for a meal, but to them, it was just – normal. “Paige asked me to tell you, your majesty, the gown is almost finished.”

“Thank you. And you know you can call me by my first name, we're not in public.” Leia gave her a warm smile, “did you two go for a run or did you take Ben for a run this time?”

“Moth-er.” Ben let the word slip out as Rose grinned and went over to the sideboard. “You know what the price is when you two gang up on me. No talk about my singleness for a whole day.”

“Your argument never works.” Rose countered, “besides, I didn't confirm which statement was correct.”

He focused on his food, “how many lessons are there again, five or six?”

“Six princess lessons, the seventh is always tea here at the palace.” Leia let out a sigh, “I'm starting to think I'm too old for this.”

“Are you trying to suggest or asking me to take over the whole lesson thing?” he winced as soon as the words left his mouth. His mother had set the trap and he'd walked right into it.

“What a brilliant idea, Ben. How good of you to suggest it.” she exclaimed, picking the dossier back up and eating another piece of fruit.

“You really should know better, Ben.” Rose intoned, taking up her seat.

He smirked. “I'd take that look off your face if I were you. If I have to do these lessons, you're coming along.” He grinned, “you can teach the girls how to defend themselves in long skirts, or you know, which spoon is the best to stab someone with.”

“Jam spoon, ” Rose answered, not looking at him as she bit into a slice of bacon. “followed by the melon spoon.”

*

Rey combed out her damp hair, wincing as she tugged on a tangle. Her small basement flat might lack a view, or much natural light at all, but it came rent free; the owner of the above house owned a string of hotels across the globe, (from Auckland to Zanzibar, and everywhere in between as their slogan went) and this was one of the family's private retreats. She basically kept tabs on the home while they were off doing business things, and she only saw them a few weeks during the year, if at all.

It was better than living in the flat above the auto-shop.

She sat down, cross-legged on the sofa, setting the comb aside and picking up the thick white envelope, drawing out the heavy card-stock paper from within, her eyes widening slightly at the royal crest at the top – apparently these weren't princess lessons from some old dowager or retired etiquette teacher from the palace with a _Princes Diaries _adoration, but lessons from _the_ Princess of Alderaan.

Turning them down might not be possible.

“I'll figure this out.” Rey leaned back, worrying her bottom lip. Unfortunately, she didn't know any little girls; they would go crazy about this kind of thing. Given the royal family had donated them, odds were, that's who usually ended up with the lessons. Little girls who loved to dress up and pretend. “Seven lessons, once a week for six weeks, together or spaced out, based on scheduling, special event on week seven.”

She lowered the paper and grabbed her laptop, booting it up and searching for anything special happening in Alderaan towards the end of the summer. The answer was plenty; culminating in the massive celebrations during the last week of August, with a major event on the thirty-first, the country's independence day – the royal ball.

“A ball. Those things still happen in the twenty-first century?” she snorted. Well, there was the Met Gala, that was sort of like a ball, but with invitations you had to pay for. “Forget it, Niima. There's no way you'd end up at the ball at the palace.”

She stretched out her legs, wiggling her toes. “I don't even know how to dance.” she giggled, “not to mention I don’t have a thing to wear.”

Her phone started to buzz and she glanced at the caller ID before answering. “No, Poe, I don't know anything about the missing donuts. I had one, and the box vanished between the time I ate and the next time I went into the office.”

“I think I have a good idea where they went, don't worry.” her boss chuckled, “Mr. Alberts came to pick up his Ferrari after you left. Says it looks absolutely perfect, and that you were right about keeping the interior white. He also plans on telling all of his friends about our amazing work, so we should expect to gain more restoration before the summer season.”

She smirked, “I may not know girly girl, but I know cars.” she sighed, leaning her head back. “something tells me this call is about more than an outrageously pink Ferrari.”

“Quick as ever, Niima.” He let out a breath, “I got a call this afternoon from a Miss Rose Tico. She wants to bring in her Thing for a new paint job.”

“Thing as in the Volkswagen.” she asked, knowing that sometimes people simply called their car 'thing' instead of revealing what they actually had. Like people bothered tapping phone lines to learn car makes and models. Stealing an expensive car out of an auto shop was stupid – but trying to get out of Alderaan with a stolen car was next to impossible. And even if you did, you'd run straight into Italy – and about thirty miles down the road was an American Air Force base.

“Yes, an actual Thing.” he laughed, “it might also need a little engine work.”

“I think a little engine work is code for 'the suspension is shot to hell' because two thirds of Alderaan's roads are cobblestone.” she snickered, “so I take this is my next assignment.” she frowned, “and why, exactly, are you calling to tell me we're getting a new client tomorrow?”

Poe let out a deep sigh. “I'm letting you know because you're scheduled to open. The car's expected to arrive before nine.” he paused, “and the Thing is likely not the property of Miss Tico, but someone she represents.”

“I can do the check-in and question standards in my sleep. Fill this out, don't forget to initial all the blanks, when you need it by?, and what color are you thinking?” She stood up and went into the kitchen. “I may not like the color pink for cars, but it's nice to paint them in a color other than black.”

“Maybe Miss Tico will want fireballs or lightning bolts.” Poe chuckled, “I've got to go. Finn's glaring at me for being on the phone when dinner's on the table.”

“Good night, Poe. Tell Finn and Peter hi for me.” she said, opening the fridge and taking out a container of leftover pasta.

“You got it. See you Monday afternoon.” the call ended and Rey sighed.

“I don't know who Miss Tico is, but I'm willing to bet good money the Thing is really her Thing.” she took out a bowl and dumped the pasta into it, grimacing as the sauce splattered up and several drops hit her shirt. “Another day, another stain.” she made a face. “Anyone who says they can eat spaghetti and meatballs and not make some kind of a mess is a liar.” She set the timer and went to retrieve the letter and her phone.

She had princess lessons to either arrange or get out of.

*

“Money is the last trouble in combining our countries for Eurovision, Minister Hux,” Ben clasped his hands behind his back as he and the representative from Monaco walked down the corridor. “The problem comes from the only talent we could put together is one spectacular children's choir, and you've seen the contest, or any form of talent competition. Choirs are second place, nothing more. Perhaps a consolation prize of some kind, but never first.”

“Second place is better than never making it to the finals.” Armitage Hux tugged on the cuffs of his shirt. “But even you have to agree continually ending up at the bottom of the bottom half is disheartening. As far as the world seems concerned, the only people who live in our countries are resort and casino employees.”

“Two small countries separated by a several dozen miles, which almost no one can point to on the map, and nine times out of ten, mistake one for the other.” Ben let out a breath, “But again, it goes back to combining the talent.”

“We're fortunate the talent pool is small, but at the same time...” he shook his head at they came to the end of the hall. “Right or left?”

“You wanted to see the Rembrandt, that's to our left.” Ben rubbed the back of his neck. These supposedly formal meetings rarely turned out as formal as originally planned. Considering their two countries populations combined barely passed one hundred thousand.

“Maybe we're over-thinking the talent issue.” Armitage answered. “One of us finds a soprano, one of us finds a tenor, and we put together a glorious duet. At one point, Alderaan's respective singer slips into Italian, Monaco's into French, although I don't think the talent is for us to worry about.”

“No.” he managed a smile. “Just to keep the committees from killing one another.” he came to a stop in front of a massive painting. “Here we are.” he looked the picture over. “Some Russian duke lost it in a poker game to my great-grandfather.” He made a face. “I'm certain the man hated himself to his dying day, but considering what Russia has gone through in the past one hundred years, he's probably glad it's here instead of destroyed.”

“Point.” Armitage stepped back to make a better assessment. “Magnificent.” he smirked, “the Windsors still after it?”

“I think they've finally given up.” Ben smiled. “Landscape with River and Windmill.” he shook his head, “though I think it rather bold of them to even consider asking.”

Hux gave him a sideways look. “You're not a fool, Solo. You know why your mother arranged this meeting.” he shook his head, “the days of princes only marrying princesses are long gone. Arranged marriages are also a thing of the past. Our countries just happened to realize it before others did.” He broke into an almost chuckle. “At least you have the common sense to stay off the online dating sites.”

“I'm surprised I'm allowed to have a Twitter account.” the two of them started back down the corridor. “And that's all fun and games until the vegans come at me for eating veal Marsala.” he paused as he saw Rose coming in their direction, “would you like me to let you go, so you can flirt with my bodyguard and risk her throwing you into the pool again?”

Armitage went slightly pink. “Miss Tico may throw me into the pool, nearest fountain, or down the stairs if she so desires, any time she wishes.”

Rose glowered at Ben as she drew level with them. “I'm going to get you for this, Benjamin.” she gave Hux a brilliant smile. “oh, and you're scheduled to meet Miss Niima at the Marriott Bonvoy tea room at three thirty on Wednesday. It's regarding the princess lessons.”

“Thank you.” he stated, silently seething.

Wednesday was Rose's day off.

*

Rey heard the car before she saw it. A dreadful, rattle, clang, thump – whatever it was, it needed serious help. Taking a large gulp of coffee, she picked up a clipboard and put in a worksheet as an almost perfect wreck of a Thing drove into the first bay, looking as if the driver had driven on everything but a road when she got the car in Germany. The vehicle came to a stop with a bang, and the young woman behind the wheel cursed as she turned it off. “Good morning, Miss Tico?”

The woman hopped out of the car instead of opening the door. “Yes.” she gave her Thing a once over. The vehicle was primarily rust colored, but a few patches of yellow lingered here and there. “I think it needs a little more work than I originally thought.”

Keeping her face even, she came closer, afraid to ask if anything on the car was in full working condition. “I've seen worse. A guy once brought a Lamborghini in here and the only thing that didn’t need replacing or fixing was the horn and the screw cap of the gas tank.”

The woman managed a grin, pushing her hair from her face. “I'd believe it.” Miss Tico let out a breath. “do I need to pull it up further?”

“I think we're good for right now.” Rey handed the clipboard to her. “if you would like to have a seat and fill this out, we can get started.” she glanced at the car again. “I take it you're not leaving the bicycle.”

“No.” she replied, “and don't worry, I can...”

Rey didn't hear her finish as she leaned over and took hold of the custom Schwinn out of the backseat and swung it up and out, setting it down effortlessly. “You have a helmet?”

“Front seat, I can get that.” she had the oddest look on her face as she retrieved it. “I'm sorry, I didn't get your name.”

“Rey.” she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I'm good with Rey.” she rubbed the back of her neck. “You have a time-line you need this done?”

“How long do you think it will take? A few months?” Miss Tico stuck the helmet under her arm.

She shook her head. “I won't know until I know what all needs replacing and repaired, but judging from the sounds, two months, if the mail is quick sending parts.” she let out a breath. “I'll do a preliminary assessment while you're doing the paperwork and I'll have a better idea. Did you have a color in mind, Miss Tico?”

She grinned. “Blood Orange, or as close to the Crayola color of red-orange as you can get. What's the point of having one of these if you don't paint it a crazy color?”

Rey returned the smile, “absolutely.” she walked over to the door of the waiting room, propping it open as Rose followed. “Help yourself to some coffee, if you like.”

“Thanks.” she had a seat as Rey went back to the car.

She shook her head, trying the door handle on the driver's side; just as she suspected, it was stuck. “We're in for a time.” she climbed into the car and turned it on, moving it another dozen feet forward, onto one of the lift racks. The Thing let out one more bang before she turned it off. “Yeah, this is more than cobblestone damage.” she climbed out and put the bracers up.

*

Rose spent more time watching the young woman, Rey, examine her car than filling out the work and consent forms. The borderline horrified look on her face as she saw something in the undercarriage almost made her laugh. She knew her Thing was shot to hell, given she had a very bad habit of missing curbs – and the car was older than her. She tapped her pen on the clipboard and looked back down making sure she hadn't forgotten anything as Rey returned to the waiting room.

“Six weeks, at the least. The only good thing I can report about is you don't have any leaks, but if you'd waited for another couple of days, you'd have had to call for a tow in here.” She wiped her forehead, leaving a streak of grease across it. 

“That's fine.” She stood up, handing over the clipboard. There was no ring or indication of a ring being worn on Rey's left hand. “I can survive without it.”

Rey scanned the paper, going down the lines, reading silently. “If you want to come in during the work period to check on it, or get an update on the progress, you're welcome to, although it's best if you call beforehand to let us know.” she gave her a nervous smile, “some people tend to freak out if they drop by and find their beloved car's engine in twenty pieces.”

Rose snorted, “I don't think I'd have an issue with that.” she let out a breath. “Estimate on cost?”

“Judging from what I've seen, at least four thousand euros.” she swallowed, looking back at the clipboard. “now, if you need to set up a payment plan...”

“Cost isn't an issue.” she stated, a little sharper than she intended. “Sorry,” she'd seen the woman flinch. “you dating anyone, Rey?”

She didn't look up. “I'm sorry, Miss Tico, I'm not a lesbian.”

“Neither am I.” she cleared her throat. “I'm asking on behalf of a friend.”

Rey arched an eyebrow. “Do you normally set up blind dates for this friend with complete strangers?”

Rose picked up her bicycle helmet. “It's an extremely complicated situation, involving me, his mother, and the guy I'm not allowed to get engaged to, well, not until my friend's married or at least engaged, and I'll arrange the whole of reservations and even pick up the tab. It's one date, nothing else.”

The other woman closed her eyes, and Rose could see her mentally counting to ten before she opened them again, taking a deep breath, “I never turn down a free meal. But I'm busy tonight.”

“Not a problem.” she beamed, a plan already forming in her mind. Ben had a full schedule this week – and only one open evening. “Wednesday, seven o'clock, you okay with Mario's?”

“The place with garlic knots the size of hubcaps? Absolutely.” Rey tore off part of the paper and handed it to her. “here's your preliminary work order. We'll have a more thorough one to you by the end of the week.”

“Thanks.” she folded the paper, sticking it into the inner pocket of her suit jacket. She wondered offhandedly wondered how odd she might look to the other woman – designer suit paired with Adidas sneakers. “Oh, and is Rey short for something?”

She gave her a rueful smile. “Elora, as in...”

“Elora Danan, from Willow.” Rose grinned at the look of shock. “I know my movies. My friend's name is Ben, he'll meet you there.” she paused, “I'll tell him to look for the young woman wearing....”

“Blue.” she said quickly. “I'll be wearing blue, have a barrette shaped like a butterfly in my hair.”

“Great.” she beamed, “don't worry about a thing. The reservation will be under Tico. The owners know me well enough.” she pulled on her helmet and grabbed her bike, wheeling it out of the auto-shop.

This was going to either be spectacular or a total disaster.

She couldn't wait to see which one. And if it was the latter, there was always the girl who Ben was going to give the princess lessons to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for tea, time for a blind date - and one nosy blogger looking for their fifteen minutes of fame.

Rey debated wearing the same clothes for her meeting at the Bonvoy she planned on wearing on her blind date with Ben this evening, but decided against it. She felt decidedly out of place as she entered the lobby of the hotel in her denim skirt and pale pink blouse, her hands smarting from where she'd scrubbed them clean of grease, glad she'd had enough time to scrub under her nails. Maybe she didn't feel so out of place as uncomfortable. True, she could have come here wearing slacks instead of one of her three skirts, but this hotel gave off the vibe of women wearing skirts or dresses, without question.

At least the concierge didn't look at her weird when she came up on her motor-scooter. The hotel was just far enough she didn't want to walk and risk not getting back to her flat in time to change clothes. “You're over-thinking, Niima.” she scanned the marquee board, “where do they hide...”

“May I help you, Miss?” A heavily accented voice came from her left, causing her to jump. “I beg your pardon, I didn't mean to startle you.”

She turned to look at a man in the crisp uniform; she had a feeling she could strike a match against the jacket and light it. “I'm looking for the tea room. I'm Rey Niima, I'm supposed to meet someone there at three-thirty.”

“Of course,” the man smiled, “I'll escort you down.”

“Thank you.” Rey felt like an absolute idiot as she walked with the employee down a turning from the lobby. Nearly everyone they passed who wasn't in a uniform wore clothes which she couldn't even begin to add up the cost of without feeling sick. The tell-tale red soles of shoes on both men and women almost made her want to shuffle her feet as they passed a ballroom and went down a short flight of stairs to a set of double glass doors.

Someone who looked straight out of _Men in Black _ or the_ X-Files_ stood in front of them, and she could feel his glower from behind his sunglasses. “Miss Niima?”

Rey blinked, her stomach turning over. “Yes?” she gave her escort a sideways look and inwardly cursed, she hadn't noticed the earpiece on him until now.

“Helmet please.” the_ X-Files_ goon held out his hand.

“I get it back, right?” She wondered why he needed to see the thing.

“Security measures, Miss Niima.” the first man gave her an understanding smile. “And of course we will return it.”

Half wanting to laugh, she held out the helmet, catching sight of a sign posted next to the double doors.

_Tea Room closed today from 3:15 – 4:45 for private party_

Her brain was still processing the whole idea of this meeting getting called a party she didn't notice someone scanning her with a wand until it went in front of her face.

“Clean.” the man who had brought her down declared as the second handed her helmet back.

“Follow me, please.”_ X-files_ guy opened the door and let her enter, and once again, Rey had trouble not gaping at her surroundings.

She'd seen fancy places in films and from the outside, but this went beyond fancy to straight up elegant bordering on regal, with lace edged tablecloths, heavy looking china and cloth napkins. The room was bathed in sunlight from the bank of windows on the far side of the room, giving guests an incredible view of the Mediterranean. What was she thinking, almost every window facing the sea in this country had a glorious view. Only a handful of hotel employees milled about the room and only one table was occupied.

Rey felt the color drain from her face when she recognized the man sitting at the table, scanning the menu, or at least, she guessed it was the menu, in a suit that epitomized the word bespoke. 

His grace, Prince Benjamin Organa Solo.

“One moment, please, Miss Niima.” the security guard left her standing a few feet away from the table and approached the prince, whispering in his ear.

When he looked up, Rey wanted to grab the nearest chair for support. The photos she'd seen in magazines and online lied; he was way, way better looking in person. Okay, maybe he’d come here doing this as a favor to his mom. The initial meeting. She could get through this. Once she had a cup of tea in her hands, she could remain perfectly calm.

Prince Benjamin stood, giving her a smile, “Miss Niima, would you be so good as to join me?”

“Uh...” she didn't know how she crossed over to the table and took the offered chair. “I'm sorry, I don't...” great, now he was going to think her an idiot.

“Calling me Mr. Organa is fine, Miss Niima.” he resumed his seat. “You'll have to forgive me, this is the first time I've had this particular meeting. My mother usually handles this... occasion.”

“No, I’m fine.” she swallowed, “I feel like an idiot.” she could feel her face go even pinker.

“Makes two of us. I wasn't expecting someone young, the last few years, my mother found herself meeting a well-meaning grandmother.” he glanced at the menu. “Are you all right with Earl Grey? And do you have any food allergies?”

“Earl Grey is wonderful, and no, no allergies.” she glanced sideways as a waiter filled her water glass. After taking a rather large sip, she felt slightly calmer. She watched as her host ordered a pot of tea, an assortment of sandwiches and cakes, and gave her an encouraging smile as the waiter retreated.

“Something tells me you're not here to arrange lessons on behalf of someone.” he paused, “you don't strike me as a nanny, you're a little too... fresh faced.”

“No.” she swallowed. “My friends won the lessons at the auction, and while they both deny it, they gave them to me as a joke. They're claiming it’s not a prank, but I know...” she took another drink of water as her face went pink again. Damn it, why did he have to have such a disarming, adorable smile?

“A joke.” he blinked, looking her over. “So you're not here to arrange more lessons, you're here to try and get out of them, am I correct, Miss Niima?”

“Er..” she wanted to crawl under the table and never come out. “I'm starting to think I'd have rather met your mother, your grace.”

“No you don't.” he stated, almost chuckling. “she'd have you starting lessons today before you even realized it.” He sat back, smiling. “Let me guess, your friends don't think there's a single princess-y thing about you.”

“Sort of.” she twisted her mouth as the waiter returned, setting down the tea pot and a tall stand of assorted treats. “I appreciate the thought and all, but at the same time...”

“May I have your cup, please?” he gave her a polite smile, indicating the saucer in front of her. “You're my guest, Miss Niima, you are served first.”

She turned the cup over, flinching as the china clacked together. “Sorry.”

“These things happen, and you didn't outright drop it on the floor.” he replied, “do you need room for milk in your tea?”

“Just a little, please.” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, willing her body to relax. “So there's no way out of the lessons, no way at all?”

“Wouldn't you rather take them and make your friends eat their words?” he quipped, handing her cup back to her. “They deny the jest, you know it’s a jest, so either they think the task impossible, or are expecting you to fail.” he nudged the small pitcher of milk towards her.

She fixed her tea, not looking in his direction. With something to keep her hands occupied, talking seemed a little easier. “I'm not the princess type.”

“All girls are princesses, Miss Niima.” there was a soft clink as he put the teapot down. “Though given the public opinion and media presentation of princesses these days, I can understand your...” he paused, “reluctance.”

Rey reached over and took one of the crust-less sandwiches from the tea stand. He had a point; and the lessons were a gift, sort of. “Poe and Finn might think I can learn how to act like a princess, but certainly not in a mere six hours.”

The prince frowned, “where did you get the idea the lessons were set at an hour each?” he took a sip of tea.

“Previous classes taken.” she picked up her own cup, taking a small sip. Over the rim, she watched him take a slice of cake and a sandwich. “Sorry.”

“You needn’t apologize, Miss Niima.” His fork looked comically small in his large hand. “Are Wednesdays typically your day off?”

“Yes, along with Sundays. Although my schedule is quite flexible.” Rey bit into the corner of her own sandwich, she hadn't asked what kind they were; brie and apple, and she resisted the urge to shove the whole thing into her mouth.

“You can leave your cell and work number with me, my secretary will contact you to arrange each lesson.” He took a breath, “I suspect we both have plenty in our lives to keep us busy.”

Rey thought absently of the Thing and of half a dozen other cars sitting in Dameron's shop. “Not a problem.” she had no idea what the prince actually did with his days, but given Alderaan's size... “this isn't going to turn into some weird makeover thing, is it?”

The prince straightened up, sitting back in his chair, his gaze almost unblinking. She could barely keep steady under his stark observation. “You most certainly do not need one of those.” his eyes shot down to her hands and back to her face. “Fingernails not withstanding, but I'm guessing you work with your hands.”

“Yes.” she took another sip of tea. “the sort where manicured nails aren't practical, I'm afraid.” She was starting to wish tomorrow was her other day off; between this and a blind date tonight, she'd arrive at the shop in the morning a wreck, she knew it.

Somewhere, a clock stuck the half hour.

*

Ben still questioned how he agreed to this blind date. He didn't question Rose's selection, far from it, she knew him almost as well, if not better, than his mother did. First of all, what kind of name was Elora for an auto mechanic? True, when her parents named her they didn't know she'd become a mechanic, but it definitely did not belong to someone who worked behind the scenes.

“I shouldn't talk.” He sighed, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he steeled up his courage to walk into Mario's. Today, despite his mostly empty schedule, felt exhausting. He remained surprised his mother hadn't come in and laid out an outfit for him to wear on this date. If he hadn't agreed to it, he might have asked Miss Niima – did she ever tell him her first name? - out instead.

“I'm pathetic.” he took a deep breath and got out of the car, giving a disgusted look at the ungodly pink Ferrari two spaces down from his own car. “I should tell Miss Niima to paint Rose's Thing that color.” he smirked, “a rose colored car for Rose.” He entered the restaurant, giving a slight nod to Cassian Andor, sitting at the bar nursing a small glass of Coke. The head of the palace security force didn't often take up the role of bodyguard, but he felt glad of the man's presence.

Cassian could keep his mind on the task than half the people on security detail.

Ben scanned the room, searching for what Rose told him – blue top, butterfly barrette in her hair. His gaze flicked past several tables with only one woman sitting down, and came to stop when he found - “if this is a joke, it isn’t amusing.” he skirted around to the far side of the establishment, not certain if he wanted to laugh or curse. “Good evening, Elora Niima?”

“Rey.” she said before looking up, her jaw dropping. “Oh...”

“There's children present.” He held out his hand, doing his best to pretend he didn't just meet her four hours ago. “Ben Solo.”

She took his hand, giving it a firm shake, along with an uncertain smile. “Nice to see you.” she glanced at the empty chair as she let go. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you.” He managed a grin as he did. “Well, since we both know what the other does for a living, we're short one subject of conversation.” Ben saw her visibly relax as a waiter came to their table, setting down a tall soda glass in front of her.

“There we go, black cherry soda water,” the man's face remained perfectly passive when he saw Ben. “May I get you anything to drink too, sir?”

“Raspberry creme soda, please.” he answered, politely.

“Coming right up.” the waiter squared his shoulders. “Again, my name’s Pierre, I'll be taking care of you tonight. Our dinner special is chicken Parmesan, served with your choice of penne or spaghetti. The catch of the day is sea bass, and tonight's soup is white bean with kale.” he gave them another smile. “I'll give you a few more minutes to look over the menu, and I'll be right back with your soda.”

Rey didn't look at him as the waiter walked away and stared hard at something in her menu. “Could this day get any weirder?”

“Don't say things like that.” he scanned his own menu, “or we're going to discover that eighty percent of the people in this place are part of a flash dance mob. And we’ll find ourselves in the middle of a musical revue of the complete works of Andrew Lloyd Webber, including _Jeeves._” he frowned, “those things still happen, right?”

“Not as frequently as you might think.” she frowned, “I need to try something in this place besides their spaghetti and meatballs.” she looked at him over the top of her menu. “What do you usually order?”

“Pizza, even if it’s more Americanized than authentic.” he let out a breath, “when I went to college in the States, my freshman year roommate always took me home with him on Thanksgiving break, to a place called Leawood, Kansas. The first year, he introduced me to this wonderful place called Minskey's. This is the only place I've found which comes close.”

Pierre returned with his soda, and a basket of breadsticks. “Here we go. Are you ready to order, or did you need more time?”

“I think I'm good, Rey?” Ben saw her eyebrows lift. “did you need to keep looking?”

“No, no.” she set the menu down. “I'm ready.”

Once they had ordered – he stuck with his usual meat trio pizza with mushrooms and she went with chicken marsala – and had their salads put in front of them, he could see Rey relax more. He'd learned to hide nervousness at a young age, and having something to keep your hands busy always helped.

Rey stabbed at a tomato. “Can I ask you something?”

“Certainly.” he took a sip of his soda.

“What in the hell did Rose do to her Thing that nearly destroyed the entire suspension system? It couldn't all come from missing curbs or the cobblestone streets.” she gave him an unreadable expression. “Because it looks like she went off-roading with it. Did she forget roads exist when she brought it back from Germany?”

He coughed, setting his glass down. “Partially. She took an offensive driving course in Munich, won the Thing in a bet, and she has no idea what the previous owner did to it. I'm surprised the hunk of junk cleared customs.” he snickered, “I just know she came back with it, all proud of her new old-car, and parked it with a flourish next to my mother's faux wood-panel station wagon.”

“Your mother, the crown princess, has a woodie station wagon?” she looked ready to burst out laughing “Why?”

Ben grinned, spearing a cucumber. “What can I say, my mom loves the _Brady Bunch_. Every now and then she takes it for a drive over to the PX at the base to get a supply of junk food. When I was little, she used to take me and we'd get ice cream.”

Rey covered her mouth, giggling. “Okay, that whole image is borderline adorable. I shouldn't talk, because, well... growing up in England, but...”

“You’re right, it is cute and I sort of miss doing it.” he let out a breath. “I don't think Rose knew you’re the same Miss Niima whom I met this afternoon. Not until this morning, following a meeting with her boss. No one told me, so if she tries to play innocent, tomorrow morning we're sprinting the last mile of our run.”

She set down her fork, “is Rose your secretary? You mentioned you had one of those earlier today.”

“No, she's my bodyguard.” he saw her eyes go wide. “I know, hard to believe. She's small and deadly.” Ben took a drink of soda. “and no, she's not my only guard. She's just the one I spend the most time with.”

She picked up her own glass, “well, I told her the Thing was practically dead when she brought it in.” she took a sip, “okay, new subject... read anything interesting lately?”

*

Rey’s wake up call on Thursday came via her phone buzzing with the kind of rage normally reserved for World Cup play-by-plays. Her assumption about her day off proving particularly draining had come true; although if she and Ben hadn't spent hours talking last night... She grimaced as her phone continue to buzz. “Did I forget to turn off Twitter, or something?” she reached out, grabbing the device and glowered at her alarm clock; it was just past seven; she closed the shop on Thursdays – her one work day to sleep late. “Maybe there's some sort of disaster.” she unlocked her phone and exhaustion left her as she saw she had one hundred and fifty unread messages.

“The fuck?” She sat up, utterly stunned. “who the...” she scrolled through them, most of them from people back in England, whom only texted her at best, twice a year. “I don't...” She let out a shriek as the phone rang and dropped it. “The hell...” she picked it back up, not checking the caller-ID as she answered. “Hello?”

“Miss Niima, this is Cassian Andor, head of the Alderaan Security force.” the man cleared his throat. “Terribly sorry to bother you so early.”

“I.. what's going on?” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “My phone woke me up.”

“An unsanctioned story went up on Royal Rabble dot com at one-thirty this morning.” he took a breath, “someone witnessed the date between you and his grace last night. Judging from the handful of pictures posted with the piece, they were at one of the neighboring tables.”

“Oh...” she fell back into bed. “they're seeing something more than there really is, right?”

“I am afraid so, Miss Niima. We have contacted your employer, Mr. Dameron. For your safety, a plainclothes guard will be stationed at your place of work, and, if you wish, one outside your home.” Mr. Andor sounded terribly contrite. “With luck, this will, as they saying goes, blow over in a week or less.”

Rey winced, “is Ben okay?” it felt weird to call him by his name to someone else.

“When I spoke to him earlier this morning, yes.” he cleared his throat, “it’s not the first time he's had this happen.”

She rolled out of bed, heading for the kitchenette. She needed tea or coffee to process this nightmare. At this explained why her phone had gone nuts. “Well, on the bright side, there's no paparazzi in Alderaan.”

“Yes.” there was a rustle of noise she couldn't place. “Why must people continually make mountains out of molehills?”

“Because the world is having a slow news day, or because someone's looking for their fifteen minutes of fame.” She set the kettle under the tap and let it fill. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Andor. I don't think I'll need a guard outside my home...” she turned off the water and crossed over to the front window, noticing two men she didn't recognize. “Did you already send them here?”

“No.” the man cursed in Spanish. “We'll do a sweep of the area, for the safety of both you and your neighbors. You watch the news, yes?”

“Not if I can help it, but I know what you mean.” she sighed, letting the blind fall back into place. “Thank you.”

“Don’t give it another thought, Miss Niima. The security force is more than happy to help. With luck, the press will find something new to go after before the weekend.” he answered with forced cheerfulness. 

Almost nothing ever happened in Alderaan. The little principality could sometimes exude the small town charm you heard about in movies about nineteen-fifties America, she half expected to see the kids on the honor roll at school make the front page of the newspaper. The heir to the throne going on a date with a 'mystery woman' certainly had turned up plenty of dust. “Thank you, again.” she took a breath, “I think I better take care of my phone before it starts yelling at me in a language I don't know.”

“Well, if you find your device is in need of an exorcism, the pastor at St Francis will oblige, regardless of what faith, if any, you currently have.” the man chuckled again. “the guard outside your place of work is named Alex. He'll keep his head down while he's there.” the call ended and she groaned.

“Time to play delete the messages.” she grimaced, leaning against the counter. “they probably all say the same thing.”

*

Ben asked himself a dozen times as he walked calmly down the stairs to the dining room why he continued to allow himself to show surprise when the press wrote about him. While his parents emphatically denied it, he felt certain he'd made the papers when he lost his first tooth and when he learned to tie his shoes. Thank God the internet didn't exist during his infancy, or the whole country might have learned about his toilet training.

Okay, maybe he was being over-dramatic with that idea.

It was a slow news time, or else some blogger finally hit pay dirt and he and Rey were the unfortunate subjects. 

Mustering up his usual smile, he went into the dining room, a pleasant look plastered to his face. “Good morning, mother.”

“Humph.” Leia Organa did not look up from the newspaper she was holding. Apparently the local press had picked up the story as well. “Isn't there some English princess or viscount acting up that Royal Rabble could tear into instead of you and Miss Niima trying to have a nice dinner out?”

He snorted before kissing her cheek. “Prince Ben the Prude pigs out on pizza with mysterious woman munching on Marsala.” He took up his plate. “The whole location was Rose's idea. But somehow, asking Rey to dinner at the palace might have made things worse.”

“Speaking of, Miss Tico failed to inform anyone that your blind date and the Miss Niima enrolled in the princess lessons are one in the same.” his mother put the paper down. “And don't sass, young man.”

“I don't think Rose put two and two together until yesterday.” he sighed, serving himself some kedgeree. “I had Andor arrange for security for Miss Niima, at least for the time being.” he added a few pieces of bacon to his plate. “I wouldn't put it past her to clock an overly pushy reporter with a wrench.”

“Oh, I think I like this girl even more if she's that type of young lady.” Leia cleared her throat, “when do I get to meet her?”

Ben rolled his eyes, putting a large spoonful of fruit salad on his plate and coming back to the table. “The first princess lesson, I suppose,” he sat, shaking out his napkin. “Would you mind sharing your lesson plans from previous years?”

“Of course not.” She set down her coffee cup. “Did you have fun on your date?”

“It wasn't bad.” he picked up his fork, “I gave her my leftover pizza. The last time I brought it home, it vanished from the fridge without a trace. I think the chefs in the kitchens might have felt insulted.”

“Normally, I would say something akin to 'it’s just leftover pizza' but I know what Mario's is like.” she smiled, “they do have good food.” she scanned her plate, “what was I going to ask you about?”

“Good morning, Rose.” Ben remarked, stabbing a slice of pear, “how did your day trip to Monaco go? I didn't think to ask during our run.”

“Excellent, thank you – and the guards at each of the gates all looked relieved I wasn't driving my Thing.” she retrieved her plate. “and for the record, I did not know Rey and Miss Niima are one in the same.” she snorted, “I'm in security, not intelligence.” she winced, “okay, that didn't come out the way I planned.”

“You know nine ways to kill someone with your bare hands, you're just terrible with names.” Leia remarked, cutting her egg in two. “At least with people you haven't known long.”

“I don't think your Thing could have made it to the Italian border, forget the French and Monacan one.” Ben quipped, “Rey did ask what you did to it – I told her the damage all came from the previous owner. I didn't see it, but I'm guessing it looks as if someone went off-roading in the New Mexico desert in it.”

“You've never been to New Mexico.” Rose retorted, coming back to the table.

“No, but I have seen_ Thor_.” he picked up his coffee cup, “and I don't believe there's anywhere in Europe with a comparable landscape.”

“Maybe they went with tundra in Norway.” His mother offered, “still, if it was beyond repair, I believe Rey would have told you.”

“It’s not beyond repair if you can simply replace a part.” Ben remarked, not looking at either of them as he picked up the dossier next to his plate. “How do I keep ending up on the judge's panel at Cannes?”

“They see you as impartial, because you don't make films.” His mother replied, “your father used to do it, God rest his soul.”

“Dad didn't like it either.” he sighed, “but still, it’s not always bad. Maybe having to dress up to watch movies I find annoying.”

“You dress up every day, why should it feel any different?” Rose sighed, “wait, I already know the answer. People aren't taking your picture at every turn.”

“Not to mention there's no popcorn served at the festival. Popcorn’s part of the experience.” he ate a forkful of kedgeree. “I suppose this is where you ask me if I plan on asking Rey to join me.”

“You can ask, but she has a job, the same as you do.” His mother sighed, “although I can't imagine her boss refusing her the time off. Though if you and Miss Niima did attend the festival together, the press would go insane.”

“With the difference being we have time to prepare for it.” He shrugged, “it’s still a month away.” Ben scanned the rest of his list of his appointments for the day. “Odds are there will be plenty of film stars and associates for the press to pay attention to instead.”

*

Poe didn't balk at the idea of a member of the Alderaan security force showing up at his place of business. He'd seen the news story about Rey and the crown prince shortly after it went live – really, who in this tiny country didn't have their news alerts set for anything having to do with their royal family or anything related to their homeland? In this place, nothing exciting ever really happened, so the crown prince going on a date rated as real news.

Which – nosy as it was - rated as a decent thing.

Downing the last of his third cup of coffee, he walked out of the office and crossed the garage to where Rey had nearly finished removing the seats from the Thing. “Well, Sunshine, how are we today?”

“Peachy.” She brushed her sleeve against her forehead. “Always nice to take out the interior and find nothing more exciting than a peach pit.” she tossed said item into the rubbish bin. “I think all these will need is a good cleaning, the stitch work appears in excellent condition.”

“Given the shape of the rest of the car, that's saying something.” He snickered, “how's the top? Another nightmare?”

“Total replacement job.” she waved her hand at stack of something Poe couldn't quite identify. “I'm surprised the mechanism worked to get the thing in place. I'll need to contact Miss Tico if she wants to stick with the off-white canvas or switch to black.”

“How the seats can remain in good shape when the rest of the car’s a nightmare, I can't imagine.” he paused, “wait, I can. Protect the leather, the hell with the rest of it.”

“Pretty much.” she folded her arms. “Cut the crap, I know why you came over here. The date was lovely, thank you for asking.” she gave him a look, “and yes, I am going to continue the princess lessons.”

“Wasn't going to suggest you weren't.” he ran a hand through his hair, “still...” he shrugged, “is your work visa still good?”

“Until August.” she scratched her nose. “Don't worry, I already have my renewal papers, I'll send them in mid-June. Not that I think there's a horrible backlog in the department.”

Poe chuckled, “Well, you never know.” he scanned the car. “You get everything drained?”

“In order, fuel, transmission, coolant, oil.” Rey gave him a smile, “It's still bad, and really, the lines are the worst of the damage. I'll have a list of things in need of total replacement by this time next week.”

“Well, we've seen much worse.” he snickered, “remember the Benz the guy had to push in here, because he refused to let anyone tow it?”

Rey made a disgusted noise. “Yeah, and stated we needed to use nothing but brand new, sparkling tools on it.” she snorted, “I remain surprised he didn't ask us all to wear freshly laundered coveralls when we worked on his precious.”

Poe folded his arms as she lifted the hood of the Thing. “Remind me, was that the car where we found the penis pump in the trunk, or was it a different one?” He snickered.

“It was.” she snickered, “also the same one we found a chipmunk in the exhaust pipe. Poor creature.”

“How the guy never noticed the smell is beyond me.” He shook his head. “Don't forget to take your lunch, Niima.”

“You never have to remind me I need to eat.” her voice was muffled, “I have leftover pizza today.”

“You didn't order pizza, the prince did.” he blanched, “I mean...”

Rey appeared from behind the Thing, both cheeks smeared with grease. “Ben gave me his leftovers because he says his always vanish from the fridge. Touch it and I'll break your fingers.”

“Yes, ma'am.” he gave her a mock salute. “Carry on, Miss Niima.” Behind him, he heard a clatter followed by a honk. “And on we go.” he turned and headed back across the garage where someone was stepping out of a Delorian. “do not make a_ Back to the Future _joke, do not make a _Back to the Future_ joke.” he muttered under his breath. “Good afternoon, how may I help you?”

“Don't worry, it’s not the flux-capacitor,” the man quipped, “I had that removed back in Milan.”

*

Ben leaned against the stone railing, watching as the sun sank into the sea on the horizon. He'd seen thousands of sunsets in his life, no two alike. Even when he attended the University of Oklahoma, and people stated if you'd watched one sunset in the state, you'd seen every one, he knew how false such a statement was. The sky never turned the same shade of pink and blue, the clouds never arranged in the exact same way. He didn't want to give into the corniness of the idea, but he had to wonder what the sunset looked like from where Rey lived in Alderaan.

“I thought I'd find you out here.” his mother's voice came softly from behind him and a moment later, he saw her move up next to him. “Every year this day comes and every year I think it will bring something different.” she let out a sigh, “your father hated to celebrate his birthday. Well, at least the way it started. Lots of fuss and bullshit, as he put it so eloquently.”

He grinned, “I liked the time when I was around eleven and we were in New York City. The waiters at that tourist trap of a restaurant all came over and sang to him. You refused to admit you'd let them know about it.”

“Well, I figure nine servers singing somewhat off-key is better than a state dinner.” she leaned her head against his shoulder. “And we still eat his favorite meal, though without the cake. We should start adding the cake back into the menu.”

He gave her a one armed hug. “If we returned pineapple upside down cake to the plan, we might just get sad all over again. Dad wouldn't want us to feel sad.” He gave the skies another look. “I think we do need to return the cake itself into the rotation. You can only eat white cake at tea so many afternoons.”

Today marked the seventh birthday since his father's passing from a massive heart-attack. For some reason, the uncelebrated birthdays felt worse than the actual anniversary of his passing in October.

“I'm sure dad's glad to know we don't get all dressed up just for dinner. We keep things how he liked it – strictly casual. Jeans and t-shirts.” he straightened, giving her another hug. “Though I'm certain he might balk at the Boston Red Sox shirt you're currently in.”

She squared her shoulders. “It was a gift from a well-meaning person as their part in the International Secret Santa exchange last Christmas. Though I'm still not certain who signed the baseball. Didn't yours send you a signed Funko?”

Ben laughed, remembering this past Christmas. “Yes, mother.” they turned from the balcony and started into the palace. “A signed Luna Lovegood, along with a quite interesting book called _Buttermilk Graffiti._” he chuckled, “reminds me, I need to reorganize my bookshelves sometime soon.”

“You know, we have a library.” she managed a smile, “but I know, they're your books, and everyone in this family has always been fiercely protective about their books.”

“Considering Grandfather Bail lost half of his books to the Russians, can you blame us?” he shuddered, “he was in the middle of transporting his whole collection from Naboo following the second world war when the Iron Curtain rose. They're either long gone or tucked away in the private collection of some high ranking official.”

His mother sighed, “it was an ugly time after the War. It’s only by the grace of God your grandfather Anakin and I made it to Alderaan in the first place. Of course, what did the Reds care about a soldier from Canada and a baby girl? As far as they were concerned, the only ones who mattered, my brother and mother, were basically political prisoners in their own country.” she swallowed and he squeezed her hand. “Of course, that’s all over and done with.”

“Grandfather Anakin also had the advantage of burn scars and the Commies not having a recent photo. They didn't know you and he had even left Naboo until you’d reached this side of Austria. By the time they sent someone after you, Grandmother Breha had already given you political sanctuary.” Ben knew the story by heart; most had terrified and thrilled him as a child, now, as an adult, found almost nothing but tragedy and horror. “I also remember the first Christmas we ever spent with Uncle Luke and his family. I think the lack of soldiers here came as more of a shock to my cousins than the warm weather.”

“Sometimes I think the distance from here to there might as well be the same as it is from here to New Zealand, for all the differences.” she shook her head as they went down a small flight of stairs. “It’s heartbreaking, almost any way you look at it.”

Ben cleared his throat. “Well, this is a lovely conversation to have before dinner. We should find something new to discuss. How are your orchids doing?”

Leia let out a chuckle. “If there's one thing you have mastered, Ben, it’s knowing when and how to change the subject.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is scheduled for updates on second and fourth Thursdays.


End file.
